Sherlock's First Time
by Imgonnaneedabiggermouth
Summary: ONE shot. Sherlock and John get in a fight, and Sherlock comes back drunk to prove to John that he isn't a child. All the while Mycroft is slightly disturbed. Rated M for obvious reasons. Don't like, don't read.


John watched Sherlock move about the flat, in an agitated manner. His repeating pattern of movements irritated John, who in turn, groaned aloud. "Sherlock, would you please just calm down." The detective threw an angry glance towards the man sitting on the couch not far from him.

"If you received a letter like this one, wouldn't you also be wary? No of course not, your skills at observation couldn't possibly be so keen." He answered his own question in a haughty tone.

"Sherlock, it's a wedding invitation, what is there to be worried about?" John spoke without looking up from the book in his hands.

"For one it is from Mycroft and two it is hand written, who has the time to hand write all of their wedding invitations?" He held up the letter, his chest puffing out. Putting it up to his nose he inhaled loudly. "Iron gall ink, that is Mycroft's signature choice. We know it isn't a forgery. But he can't possibly be getting married."

"Just text him asking what it's about." John put down the book, and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"What was that? You think me being worried is childish?" Sherlock put down the letter and sauntered towards John.

"No, because a child wouldn't be so unnecessarily worried." John clenched his jaw and stared up at Sherlock. "I'm frustrated that you have to go and blow everything out of proportions."

"Well that's a bloody shame." Sherlock sneered, "Maybe I should just stop caring about everything." He said sarcastically.

"You're such a child, Sherlock!" John stood up. Before he knew it, Sherlock was grabbing a fistful of John's jumper and attempting to throw the man on the floor. "What the hell!" John yelled, pushing Sherlock back, only to be charged at again. He dodged this time, and Sherlock skidded before catching his balance. John internally cursed Sherlock for being so damned graceful, even in a fight. Turning back around Sherlock was breathing heavily.

"I am NOT a child!" He screamed. Both stood for a time, chests puffing out exasperated breaths.

"You act like one." John said with as much venom as he could muster. Sherlock's eyes widened in surprise and hurt at his best friends words. As quick as it had come, the hurt was replaced with rage and Sherlock swung his fist to clash with John's face. He had been in the military long enough to know what a real punch felt like, and even though Sherlock's aura was filled with rage, it somehow felt half-hearted. John clutched his cheek and Sherlock ran out of the flat, slamming the door behind him. "Shit."

John laid in bed, an ice pack clutched to his sore cheek. Sherlock hadn't returned, and he had stopped worrying. A few moments later he heard the door slowly unlock and open. A light was dimly turned on and he heard staggered footsteps. That couldn't be Sherlock, they were too sloppy. Getting out of bed silently, John crept to his bedroom door. He took a peek through the keyhole. He saw a messy clump of black hair and long legs. Something was wrong. Unlocking his bedroom door, John called out to Sherlock. The figure froze and turned slowly.

Sherlock looked angry, "John." He greeted him. "Youuu stuuupid little man." His words slurred. John couldn't believe it, Sherlock was drunk! He staggered over to the couch and appeared to be texting someone. He seemed to have lost interest.

John rolled his eyes and shut his door, he was too tired to deal with a drunken genius right now. He was curled up in his warm bed ten minutes later his door flew open. "Sherlock?" John sat up, angry this time. He didn't want to have a repeat of their fight, but that seemed to be the way it was headed.

"I'm not a child." Sherlock muttered, his head hung as he stood in the doorway.

"I'm sorry." John had forgiven the man after he cooled down from the fight. In fact, he had been worried about where Sherlock had gone.

"I'm not." Sherlock walked slowly to sit on John's bed beside him.

"I know you're not, I'm sorry." John tried to see Sherlock's eyes in the darkness.

Suddenly, the detective lurched up, grabbing John's face in his hands. His wounded cheek stung, but John forgot about it as Sherlock planted his mouth on top of his own. His eyes widened in shock. Sherlock had taken him by surprise, and was able to slither his tongue into the other mans mouth. John tried to pull away, but was caught in Sherlock's surprisingly strong grip. He finally pulled his tongue out and moved his mouth to trail it down John's neck.

"What are you doing?" John asked in ragged breaths, his cheeks were burning up, and the dull pain had subsided.

"Showing you." Sherlock said, in a firm voice.

"Showing me w-what exactly?" John felt his underwear tighten uncomfortably.

"I'm not a child." Sherlock moved his hands down to Johns hips. His right one caressed the bulge, while the left worked on pulling the elastic of his boxers down. Sherlock pushed John to lay against the headboard, while he moved his head down to John's groin. Teasingly, he looked up at John, and the light from the window illuminated his grey-green eyes. He pretended to begin to lower John's boxers, but pulled them back up. Moving his hands to prop himself up, he slowly lowered his mouth to John's arousal. His hot breath blew in puffs, giving John a sample of what heat lay inside his mouth. He poked out his tongue, taking one long slide over the bulge.

"Fuck." John moaned, exciting Sherlock, who closed his mouth sideways along John. "Please Sherlock, take them off." Sherlock ignored John, who moaned even louder. Sherlock could see the light pre-cum drenching the top of John's red boxers. Curiosity got the best of him, and he pulled down the elastic to take a look at John's cock. It was round and full, like the man it belonged to. Sherlock found it surprisingly cute. Without a moment's notice, he engulfed the head in his mouth. John practically doubled over as he bucked from the sudden feeling. "Sherlock." He moaned. Long fingers ran along John's nipples, and Sherlock brought himself up, to plant a long kiss on John's mouth. He tasted himself and the bitter tang of alcohol on Sherlock's breath. Sherlock mounted Johns hips, and slowly gyrated over John's swelling. He reached up to unbutton his purple shirt, and threw it aside. John looked up to appreciate Sherlock's pale and firm physique. This man, who any woman would absolutely worship was wasting his time on a battered old veteran. The thought made him incredibly happy. He reached down in turn, and began unbuckling Sherlock's belt. Throwing it across the room, he opened Sherlock's pants, seeing the swell through the dark material. He reached in, and felt the length of him. Sherlock slapped his hand away, teasingly. "Let me see it." John huffed, no use being coy.

"Later." Sherlock promised, his voice deep and rumbling. His beautiful eyes were slits, and he looked as dangerous as he was sexy. "But for now, we have you to worry about." He moved his mouth to John's cock again, and took the thickness in. John's grunts intensified, and Sherlock increased his pace. A few moments later he erupted into Sherlock's throat with the loudest moan yet. The detective was surprised and coughed before swallowing it down.

"Oh my god." John huffed.

"No, it's just me." Sherlock replied, getting out of the bed.

"Don't go, you still have-." John was cut short as he watched Sherlock turn around and pull down his pants. His butt was as pale as the rest of him, and John would have laughed if he wasn't so enraptured. He turned around once he had undressed, and let John look at him. His cock suited him, as weird as that sounds. It was long, pale, and had a pinkish hue to the tip. Sherlock walked over to John slowly, and pulled the veteran's boxers off all the way. He noticed something was clutched in the detective's hand. John recognized it as a small canister of Vaseline. He realized what was going on.

"Do you mind?" Sherlock asked, joining him on the bed.

"N-no, not at all." He stuttered, suddenly very nervous.

"Don't worry." John turned to face away from Sherlock. "No, come here." Sherlock pulled the smaller man into his lap.

"If, I'm too heavy." He began, but Sherlock gave him a look that shut him up. He felt the coldness as Sherlock inserted a digit covered in the lubricant. He shuddered, and felt himself becoming dangerously close to arousal again. With a few thrusts inside, Sherlock slowly inserted a second finger, then a third. John felt Sherlock take his arousal and press the tip to John's opening. Both were facing each other, and watched as their partner's face react. Sherlock's eyes were narrowed in lust and John's were wide. He slowly nestled deeper, until he was buried to the hilt.

"How is it?" Sherlock asked in a moan.

"Amazing." John kept the answer short, his cock now fully erect between both of their bellies. Sherlock took one long shuddering pull out of John, and slowly went back in. The air was full of their mingled profanities. The pace increased, and Sherlock threw his head back. He had never felt this way before, but, to be fair, he had never wanted to do this with anyone before. John lifted a hand to stroke his own cock, and his pace matched Sherlock's. A few minutes later Sherlock felt something coming, something big. In a rush of color he came inside, and John felt the warmth fill him up as he came himself. He watched himself squirt onto Sherlock's own stomach, the color's almost identical in the moonlight. Meanwhile, Sherlock was unfamiliar with the feeling and it made him blackout for a moment. The two laid wasted and shuddering, their naked bodies intertwined. Sherlock pulled out, and felt the wetness seep out after him. They didn't move for a time, letting themselves understand what had happened and catch their breath. Falling over, they fell asleep holding one another until the morning. When they woke up Sherlock checked his phone, it had one text from his brother. He read the drunken conversation they had had last night.

_John's gonna' get it tonight. –SH_

_Sherlock, what's wrong? –MH_

_I said I'm gonna fuck him, you idiot. –SH_

_Tmi, Sherlock. -MH_


End file.
